Sarah's Letters
by Bl00dstain3d
Summary: Beau kept every letter Sarah wrote. He kept them for 150 years


Title: Sarah's Letters

Fandom: Hetalia

Rating: T

Characters: Sarah J. (Beau's wife) Beau J. (Confed. Am.) Random Girlfriend

Time Period: 2011

Music To Write By: Missing You (My Bill)

Authoress Ramblings: Okay...this one's a bit weird...in the musical Sarah is the one singing the song Missing You (My Bill), where she's writing a letter to Bill. This fic is Beau reading Sarah's letters in 2011. The end is a bit OoC, but remember, Sarah is the only person Beau's loved, everyone else is just to ease his pain. Also: Research question. If you love someone you know doesn't love you back, what do you do?

* * *

><p>'<em>Beauregard,<em>

_Leeander has grown up so much in the past year. He looks so much like you. He asks about you…I tell him stories of your heroism. You say your brother had a hero complex, but you're the real hero to him. Some soldiers stopped by the other day, looking for a place to rest. I offered them the east lawn to pitch their tents. One of them taught me how, so I can teach Leeander. Another left a rifle with me, to defend against the Yankees if I have to. He also taught me to use it. We sent some food with them, and mailed letters for them. Seeing them made me miss you even more. I love you._

_Your Beloved,_

_Sarah'_

* * *

><p>Beau's hand trembled as he held the old paper, hearing Sarah's voice as he read her words on the paper. He could picture her sitting at the desk in his study writing to him. He ran his hand over the polished wood, imagining her sitting at it. The phone rang. He picked it up and hung it up. He didn't feel like talking to anyone.<p>

* * *

><p>'<em>Beauregard,<em>

_It's our first wedding anniversary, and I wish you could be here. Leeander got sick with scarlet fever and the doctors weren't sure he'd make it. He pulled through, and will be fine now. I've had to separate the household slaves from the field workers, as cholera is running rampant through the field workers, and I don't want Leeander sick again. Mama and Papa came to visit, apparently there was an outbreak of influenza in Richmond. I'm healthy, don't worry about me. I love you._

_Your Devoted,_

_Sarah.'_

* * *

><p>Sarah's father had died two weeks after she sent that letter. He'd caught the flu and died from it. Sarah had caught the flu as well, but she survived it, several of their slaves had not though. Beau placed the letter on the desk, and picked up another one.<p>

The study door opened, and a young woman walked in.

"Hey baby…"

* * *

><p>'<em>Beauregard.<em>

_I'm glad I got to see you again, even if it was for a short while. Leeander won't stop talking about you and how much he wants to be like you. For only being three he's developing quite a vocabulary. I had to chastise the overseer for swearing in front of him, because he repeated it at the dinner table! It amused the ladies I was entertaining, but I felt so embarrassed! He finally stopped when I told him you didn't use such words. Leeander reminds me so much of you. He's going to grow up to be the spitting image of you. I love you._

_Your Darling_

_Sarah.'_

* * *

><p>Beau smiled, he'd ordered the overseer whipped for teaching his son such foul language. Sarah was such a kind soul that she couldn't bring herself to punish anyone. He really did miss her, North Italy reminded him of her, with his naïve innocence and cheery demeanor. He found himself out in the gardens without noticing. Sarah was buried on the grounds, as was Rebecca. Leeander was buried in another cemetery, but Beau knew where he was. Beau stopped in front of a statue of an angel holding an infant. She stood, wings spread to protect the little one, cradling the child, looking into the child's eyes. Only Beau knew that it was actually Sarah and Rebecca. The statue stood atop an underground tomb. Beau came out here every year on their anniversary and Sarah and Rebecca's birthdays.<p>

* * *

><p>'<em>Beauregard,<em>

_I'm now four months pregnant, and I miss you more than ever. I want you to come home, I want this war to be over. I want our children to know their father. I'm tired of dreaming of being in your arms and waking up cold. I'm tired of the fighting…I love you._

_Yours Faithfully,_

_Sarah.'_

* * *

><p>Sarah's last letter had been full of frustration and anger, and he'd expected it. He'd made it home two months later. Sarah died in June that year. He hadn't gotten to see her all that often, and it angered him. He'd often blame Alfred for Sarah's death. Beau sat at his desk, writing. He read over what he wrote. No one would ever have to read this. No, this was for one person and one person only.<p>

* * *

><p>'<em>My Dearest Sarah,<em>

_It's our 150__th__ wedding anniversary, and I miss you now, more than ever. More than the time we were torn apart by war, more than when I lost you and Rebecca. I just want you to know that when you look down and see me with all these other women, I'm not replacing you. I love you._

_Yours Eternally,_

_Beauregard.'_


End file.
